Blood and Water
by WellHelloRose
Summary: A first year at Uni, Sherlock Holmes is approached by a fellow first year, Jackson. From friends to lovers, and far into their future, Sherlock suffers through an abusive relationship that makes him question everything he's ever known. Notes: Eventual JohnLock, JohnLock Endgame; rated M for some sexual content, drug use, abuse and violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Sherlock saw Sebastian sitting in the middle of the library room, hovered over his textbook. Sherlock guessed he was working on their psych essay due the following week. Seb looked up and Sherlock tried to smile and wave. Seb glared at him and went back to his textbook.

Sherlock frowned momentarily, but quickly erased the look. Sebastian was an idiot, not nearly as smart as Sherlock. Sherlock didn't need a friend like that. So instead, he took a small corner table to work on _his_ psychology essay. He was just delving into the world of Freud and beginning to forget the unfortunate incident with Seb when a fairly large presence sent a shiver up his spine.

Annoyed, Sherlock looked up. A tall college student was standing in front of him. He had blonde hair and was sturdily built with bright blue eyes. He gave Sherlock a kind smile, despite Sherlock's scowl.

"I saw what happened back there, with Sebastian." He had a gravelly voice and Sherlock twitched his ear; he didn't like it. "Ignore him," he went on. "He's an ass who thinks he knows everything. I wish he would just shut up in our psych class, don't you?"

Oh. Sherlock frowned without thinking about it. So they had psych together. Sherlock usually ignored the other students, except Seb, who just said the stupidest things, he couldn't ignore them.

Sherlock finally nodded in agreement.

The student hesitated, his smile hardening a bit as he struggled for something else to say. "Are… Are you working on your psych essay?"

Sherlock nodded again. Surprisingly to him, this… person was still there. For some unknown reason, this guy really seemed to want to talk to him. Sherlock considered asking him to leave. But Seb's face flashed in his mind, and he remembered his mother begging him to make friends.

All right. "Yes," he said. His voice cracked; he hadn't used it since class the previous day. He coughed and the student smiled encouragingly. Sherlock found him painfully condescending, but hell, someone was trying. "Are you?"

The man nodded. "Yeah." He shook his head with a chuckle. "That Freud guy had some really weird thoughts going through his head."

"Yes, well…" Sherlock wondered why he was doing this, but the words fell from his mouth before he could stop them. "Would you like sit here?"

His eyes lit up. "Yeah!" He gathered his stuff from the other table and sat across from Sherlock. "I'm Jackson, by the way."

"Sherlock."

"I know."

Sherlock looked up and Jackson smiled at him. Sherlock took in his new companion and nodded slowly. Maybe they could be friends.

* * *

Jackson did become Sherlock's friend, and after the first week, it was unusual for anyone to see them apart. Jackson was thankful Sherlock had gotten a single room, and the two spent a lot of time studying in the small room.

As time went on, Sherlock found, to his chagrin, that he was growing fond of Jackson in a different way. Sherlock being gay was nothing new to him. Sex was never really a big deal to him, to be honest, but when he did find someone he found himself attracted to, it was always a male.

And Jackson appeared to be that male. Sherlock tried to suppress it, reminding himself that his friend was straight, and he almost managed to squash his feelings.

Almost.

It was a chilly autumn Sunday afternoon, and Jackson was sitting on the floor of his dorm, doing and redoing his calculus. Sherlock shot him a look out of the corner of his eye; his shirt was disheveled and untucked, his pants ripped in the middle. Jackson looked paler than usual and his hair hadn't been brushed since at least Friday. There were dark circles under his eyes. Sherlock looked back to his laptop.

Jackson threw his pencil down, sighed, and ran his hands over his face.

Sherlock stole another glance, arguing with himself about whether or not he should ask what was wrong. Finally, he gritted his teeth and said, "Everything all right?"

Jackson half jumped, as if Sherlock speaking surprised him. He hesitated. "Um. Yeah."

"Please don't lie to me." Sherlock scrowled down the webpage.

Jackson chuckled. "I've just got something on my mind."

Sherlock sat silently, wondering if Jackson would elaborate or if he should ask.

"I have something to tell you, but I'm not sure how you'll feel about it."

Sherlock could feel Jackson watching him. He refused to relay any emotion to his friend. No one was worth that, not yet. Not even Jackson.

"Sherlock." The seriousness of Jackson's voice, however, pulled Sherlock from his mental dungeon. He sat up and rolled off his bed, coming to sit on the floor across from Jackson. Jackson smiled in thanks, but he looked nervous. "Sherlock, I'm gay."

Sherlock's heart stopped. Mentally, he willed his body to stop reacting to the confession before him. His stomach needed to stop doing flipflops. His heart needed to start beating again. Oh, wait, no, his heart needed to beat normally, not pound. His face needed to stop feeling warm. Shit, shit, shit.

"Sherlock?" Jackson was leaning forward now, worry flashing through his eyes.

Sherlock shook his head, trying to clear anything. "Yes," he croaked. "Yes, that's fine."

"It's fine?"

"It's fine." Sherlock looked down at his shaking hands. He had to do it. He had nothing to lose, right? "I mean." He coughed. "So am I."

Jackson gave him his signature big grin, a grin Sherlock noted seemed to be reserved for him. Jackson patted his cheek roughly. "Way to go, dude," he whispered, his voice low and husky.

Sherlock felt a shiver run up his spine and he wished Jackson would stop talking like that. Or touching him. Or smiling at him. Or… any of it.

"Are you cold?"

Shit.

"Come here." Jackson pulled the blanket off the bed above Sherlock's head and patted the spot next to him. "I'm cold, too."

"You're doing calc." Sherlock wasn't entirely sure how this counted as a reason not to sit next him, but it was close enough. Anything to keep from being that close to the friend he now knew he maybe had a chance with.

Until Jackson saw how his mind worked. Sherlock frowned; he hadn't showed off his deducing skills yet in fear that it would drive his one and only friend away.

Jackson shut his calc book. "I'm done." He stood up and tossed the blanket over Sherlock, seeing that he would not be moving. "I'm going to make tea, want some?"

Sherlock nodded silently. Jackson poured the water from a few of Sherlock's water bottles into a measuring cup and began heating it in the microwave. He looked through Sherlock's tea stash, deciding on a mint black tea. Secretly, Sherlock knew it was Jackson's favorite, which was why he'd bought it. Jackson dumped the loose tea into Sherlock's strainer in his pot.

"I don't know why you don't just use tea bags like a normal person," snorted Jackson.

Sherlock flinched at the term "normal person," and immediately prayed Jackson hadn't seen that.

Of course he had.

Jackson frowned. "Sorry, I didn't mean that." The microwave beeped and Jackson poured the water into the teakettle. He set the timer for five minutes and sat across from Sherlock. "Why do you hate it when I say things like that?" Jackson asked, his head cocked. Sherlock just blinked at him. They were not about to have this conversation, not with Jackson close enough that he could feel the other's breath against his face. "Sherlock?" Jackson reached out and put his hand on Sherlock's head. "Sherlock, let me in."

Sherlock took Jackson's hand off his head and laid it in Jackson's lap. Sherlock froze.

Jackson was hard.

And staring at him.

Hungrily.

"Truth or dare?"

Sherlock met his gaze. "What?"

"Truth. Or. Dare?" Jackson repeated. His voice was low and husky again. Sherlock's grip on his wrist tightened.

"Dare."

"I dare you to kiss me." Before Sherlock could say anything, Jackson jerked forward and smashed his lips into Sherlock's. Sherlock jerked back in surprise, but he was against the bed and Jackson still had his lips captured. After a moment, Sherlock relaxed into the kiss and Jackson eased up, pressing gentler against him. Sherlock closed his eyes. His lips were chapped and rough, methodical with his testing and tasting. Sherlock felt a tongue run across his lips and he opened to let Jackson in. Suddenly, Jackson pulled away, looking flushed.

"Sorry," he panted. "God, I'm sorry."

Sherlock reached out, desperate for contact again. He grabbed Jackson's shirt to keep him from moving. "I do not think that fulfills the terms of the dare." He pulled Jackson to him again. Jackson smirked against his lips and slid onto his lap. Sherlock gasped. He felt Jackson's hands beginning to work at his buttons and he began working down Sherlock's neck, nipping, biting, licking. Sherlock panted, dropping his head to Jackson's shoulder. Jackson grinded against him and he panted.

"Jackson, no, wait."

Jackson stilled everything and leaned back to meet Sherlock's gaze. Sherlock willed him to understand.

"I just—"

Jackson placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "It's okay, Sherlock. You're right. We should take it slow." He got off the other man and Sherlock groaned plaintively at the loss of contact. Jackson chuckled. He packed up his book bag. Swinging his bag over his shoulder, Jackson stole another kiss from Sherlock. "See you at dinner?" he asked, hovering above Sherlock's lips. Sherlock searched his gaze for something, but Sherlock wasn't sure what. He gave a sharp nod. Jackson smiled and ran his hand through Sherlock's hair. "Good." He shut the door behind him.

Sherlock stared after him, his body and mind feeling like it was in overload. He looked up to see that the timer had beeped, probably during the make-out session. Sherlock poured himself a cup of tea. He huddled against his bed, hands warmed by the hot liquid.

Sherlock thought about his deducing, and a rock formed in the pit of his stomach. Jackson still didn't know. Sherlock had a very bad feeling about this.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** Hey guys! Thanks for reading and for all the views and everything :) This is the first fanfiction I've ever published online, so any feedback and reviews and critiques are brilliant! If you have any questions, feel free to PM me! Just so you guys know, this chapter is going up un-beta'ed, so any mistakes are mine. Thanks for reading and enjoy :D

**Chapter 2**

Sherlock stroked his fingers through Jackson's hair. The young man had his head in Sherlock's lap, sleeping soundly with his lover. Sherlock shivered as the cold wind blew into the room. He wrapped the blanket tighter around Jackson. Jackson moaned in his sleep.

"_Sherlock."_

Sherlock bent over him to give him a kiss on the forehead. He considered telling Jackson about his deducing skills, but the look on Seb's face was engrained in his head. He didn't think he could bear it if Jackson gave him that look.

Jackson, who was sleeping in Sherlock's lap. Jackson, who looked so peaceful. Jackson, who had just turned Sherlock on in more ways than one.

Jackson, whose eyes were fluttering open. He smiled. "Hey there." He sat up and gave Sherlock a quick kiss. He smiled into Jackson's lips. "How long was I out?"

"One hour and 23 minutes." Sherlock closed his French book and allowed Jackson to pull him onto his lap.

Jackson laughed. "I don't know how you do that Sherlock." He buried his face in Sherlock's neck and Sherlock stiffened. "I don't know how you can keep such careful track of everything."

He licked his lips. "Is that… okay with you?" he rumbled hesitantly. He wound his fingers with Jackson's, frightened.

Jackson pulled back and gave him a strange look. "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?" He brought Sherlock's hand to his lips. Sherlock shivered as Jackson kissed his hand again and took one finger into his mouth to suck on it. He pulled his hand away and replaced it with his mouth and tongue.

Jackson smiled against his lips. Sherlock felt Jackson suck on his lower lip. He moaned. Sherlock felt blood rush to his lower body and he pulled back, climbing off of Jackson's lap. Jackson threw his head back with a groan.

"Sherlock!" He shook his head at his friend, chuckling. "We'll do this in your time, but it's rude to get a man turned on and then leave him hanging!"

Sherlock ducked his head sheepishly. Jackson's smile faded. "Hey." He wrapped his fingers in Sherlock's hair and Sherlock lowered his gaze. "Hey, I'm kidding. What's wrong, man?" Sherlock refused to look at him. "Sherlock, you can tell me."

Sherlock met his gaze and felt the usual rush of temptation to show Jackson his skills. It had been a month since they first kissed, Jackson could handle it. Right? He stared at Jackson's brilliant green eyes, thought about never seeing them again, and shook his head.

"There's nothing wrong."

Jackson frowned. Sherlock felt a stab in his heart. "I wish you wouldn't lie to me. I get it if you don't want to talk, but don't lie to me." He let go of Sherlock's hair and began packing his bag.

Sherlock's eyes widened fearfully. Was Jackson mad? Was he upset? He reached for him. Jackson pulled back and Sherlock let his hand drop.

"I want you to trust me, Sherlock." He stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I wish you would." He left. Sherlock considered running after him, but he didn't. Mycroft, his older brother, would be appalled if he went running after someone. Especially a lover.

* * *

Sherlock didn't last an hour. He walked to Jackson's room, bundled against the cold, and knocked on his door.

Jackson's roommate answered. "Not here," he said. Sherlock glanced over the short black haired kid, nodded and left. "He went for a walk," the roommate called after him. "Probably down by the old oak tree!"

Sherlock waved in thanks and headed down to the grounds.

While there were many trees on campus, but the one known to most of the students was an old oak tree in the center of the grounds. Sherlock approached it, but didn't see his friend underneath it. He stood below the branches, looking around with his brow furrowed.

Something hit his head. He looked down to see a little acorn on the ground. He frowned and looked up. Jackson was sitting on a branch in the tree, leaning against the trunk. He gave Sherlock a small smirk.

"Hi," Jackson said.

"Hello," Sherlock replied. Sherlock looked around; climbing trees really was not his strong suit, and he had little interest in shouting up to Jackson.

Jackson held out his hand. Sherlock hesitated. Jackson sighed and began pulling back.

"Wait." Sherlock rubbed his forehead. Why was he doing this? Why was he climbing a tree? For a _guy_? Mycroft would be disappointed. Sherlock scanned the tree, reached up to the lowest hanging branch, and climbed on to it. He looked up. Jackson was smiling, and he held out a hand. Sherlock took it and Jackson hauled him up to the branch just below him.

"Hello." Jackson rubbed Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock pawed at Jackson's hand, but couldn't keep the smile off his face. "Thanks." He fixed his hair as best he could. "Look, about earlier…"

"Shut up, Sherlock, I need to apologize for that."

Sherlock frowned, somewhat taken aback. "Erm, what?"

"I'm sorry." Jackson ran his fingers through his shaggy hair. "I shouldn't have pushed you. What you're comfortable with sharing with me is your choice, not mine. I'm sorry. Come to me when you're ready to talk, and please, just know that I will never judge. You're my friend and I care a lot about you. But I won't push you." He leaned down to run his fingers through Sherlock's hair, unable to kiss him.

Sherlock grabbed his hand and kissed it, a thousand things running through his head. He really did want to open up to Jackson, show him all there was to him. "Let's go to dinner tonight," Sherlock said finally. "Mycroft just sent me some money for fun. I can take you to dinner."

Jackson smiled and nodded.

* * *

Sherlock stared at his water. Jackson stared at him. Finally, Sherlock sighed.

"I want to tell you something." Sherlock licked his lips and Jackson cocked his head in mild confusion. "Most people don't like me. It is because I can tell a lot about a person just by looking at them."

Jackson frowned a bit. "Okay?"

"All right." Sherlock sighed, glancing around. "The woman just to your left is coming out to her parents right now. I can tell because her parents are holding hands and look slightly mortified. She has a very serious expression on her face and she is looking directly at them; she wants them to understand. Why is it not something else? A death? Anything? Because the wedding ring on her finger is not an official wedding ring. How can I tell? It's silver, not gold, and a single band with no jewels. Not standard for a feminine wedding or engagement ring. She's fiddling with it as she talks; she's nervous and the ring is a security blanket for her. Clearly from someone important, someone she feels safe with. It's on her ring finger. Deduction: She has a partner. Her mother is wearing a cross on her bracelet; Christian. Probably staunch. Her parents clearly love her as they have not yelled or fled and there are no signs of anger, but they are distressed at the news."

Jackson stared at him, wide eyed. "How do you know this is fact?"

"Her mother is about to stand, say something, and run to the bathroom."

Sure enough, the older woman got to her feet and somewhat quietly said, "I'm sorry. I just cannot accept this. God called it an abomination, and I… I just can't!" She walked hurriedly towards the bathroom.

Sherlock returned his gaze to the water glass in front of him, not sure he could handle the disgusted face Jackson was sure to be giving him.

"Sherlock," Jackson breathed, and Sherlock prepared for the worst, "that was _amazing."_

He jerked his head up, his eyes wide with shock. Jackson smiled at him. "What?"

"That was fantastic! Why would I ever think that would be a reason to dislike you?" Jackson reached across the table to grip Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock twined their fingers together. "Most people…"

"Most people are idiots." Jackson pressed his leg against his friend's. "Don't be ashamed of that. That was brilliant. You're brilliant."

Sherlock smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N **So I chose not to go into detail about the sex scene. I went back and forth with it, though, and if enough people request it, maybe I'll play with it. I've never written out a full sex scene before, so I'm not sure how it would go. As for this... yup. This is it so far. It's around April now, and they'll be getting out of a school in a month or so.

Comments are always appreciated, as are follows and everything :) Let me know what you think! Again, this chapter wasn't beta'd, so all mistakes are mine. Thanks for your support! :D

**Chapter 3**

Over the next few months, Jackson and Sherlock continued to see each other, and never officially. Mycroft had finally heard about the strange man in Sherlock's life and both the brother and Mummy insisted on meeting this boy. Jackson found it hilarious; Sherlock found it mortifying and resolved to never allow his family near Jackson.

Of course that wouldn't last. Sherlock really should have known. Mycroft was in town, and managed to catch Sherlock when Jackson was there.

Granted, Jackson rarely wasn't there.

Jackson managed to convince Sherlock dinner with Mycroft would be a good idea. After a little begging, a little nuzzling and a little kissing, Sherlock decided he would never really be able to say no to Jackson.

So it was set. Sherlock and Jackson would have dinner with Mycroft on Saturday at a small supper club Mycroft liked.

That was where Sherlock found himself, seated awkwardly between Jackson and his brother. The conversation was genial, tempered enough that Sherlock allowed himself to turn his attention to more interesting things, like deducing the family just to the right of them.

"Why is it that you wear long sleeves?"

Well, shit. Sherlock looked at Mycroft, who had just asked the unusual question. He narrowed his eyes at his brother.

"Erm." Jackson glanced at Sherlock uncomfortably. "What?"

"I assume you know of my brother's deductions?" Mycroft drawled.

Jackson nodded. "Yes. He's brilliant."

"While not quite at my little brother's level, I am also rather skilled at deductions. Now, I have deduced that you have a reason for wearing long sleeves and it is not that you are cold." Mycroft turned to Sherlock. "Does he wear long sleeves a lot?"

"Piss off, Mycroft," snapped Sherlock. But even as he said it, he was running over the past months with Jackson and yes, in all of his memories, Jackson was wearing sleeves, at least three quarter length.

Mycroft smirked at him. "Just a reminder, Sherlock, everyone has their secrets."

Jackson grabbed Sherlock's hand under the table. He flashed a smile and Sherlock felt a little better.

"I just like long sleeves. Makes me feel better, and more sophisticated." Jackson grinned at Mycroft. "Always have to be sophisticated when meeting my best friend's older brother, and the future British Government, don't I?"

Mycroft smirked, and the conversation lapsed back into general pleasantries. Sherlock paid closer attention, but did not contribute.

At the end, Mycroft offered to give the boys a ride back to campus, but the night was beautiful and Jackson tugged Sherlock into a walk.

"Quite a character," grinned Jackson as they walked down the pavement.

Sherlock looked around at the buildings. "Hm? Oh, my brother. Yes, he is a character."

"Are you okay?" Jackson reached out to take his hand. Sherlock slowed his walk down so he could be next to the other man. Jackson wrapped his arm around his lover's waist and nuzzled his cheek. "And don't tell me you are just to make me leave you alone."

Sherlock reached up to kiss the taller man's jaw. "Why _do_ you wear long sleeves all the time?"

"Ah." Jackson looked down at him and smiled. "I just like them, that's all."

"So would you mind if I…" Sherlock carefully ran his hands up Jackson's sleeve.

Jackson jerked his arm back. Sherlock cocked his head. Jackson smiled and tugged Sherlock down an alley. He pressed his lover against the brick wall and captured his mouth in a rough kiss. Sherlock wrapped his arms around Jackson's neck, bringing his hips forward to meet the other's. Jackson moaned into his mouth. Sherlock's breath caught.

Jackson took the opportunity to pull back. "Why don't you take it off of me all the way?" He gave a violent thrust and Sherlock nearly melted in his arms.

Yet Sherlock could tell this was not the place he wanted to have Jackson take his virginity. So as tempting as it was to have Jackson take him against the wall, he had to decline. "Not here. Let's get back to my room and we can… talk."

Jackson smiled and led the way back to the school.

Somewhere deep in the back of his mind, Sherlock remembered the question about the shirt.

* * *

Sherlock's dorm door had hardly clicked shut and Jackson shoved Sherlock onto the bed. Sherlock took a breath and Jackson was on top of him, kissing him, exploring him, grinding into him. Sherlock laid there for a moment, eyes closed. He took in the rush of pleasure gliding through him as Jackson's hard body began thrusting him against him.

"Jackson," he breathed. "_Jackson."_

Jackson froze and sat back. "Tell me no, Sherlock," he said quietly. He stroked Sherlock's cheek. "If you don't want this, just say no."

Sherlock, his whole body throbbing with pleasure, sat up. "Yes." He pulled Jackson into a kiss. "I want this. I want _you._"

Sherlock's embarrassment at the sappy words was short lived as Jackson smiled and took his lips again.

* * *

Jackson flopped on to the bed next to Sherlock, spent. A large grin graced his face, and Sherlock felt Jackson grip his hand.

"That was amazing, Sherlock," Jackson breathed. "_You_ were amazing."

Sherlock smiled, feeling sore and tired, but oddly full. He kissed Jackson's shoulder and hoped that would explain everything he was feeling. The chuckle that escaped Jackson proved he did. He placed his head on Jackson's chest. Jackson closed his eyes and it wasn't long until Jackson was asleep.

The question about his sleeves burned in Sherlock's mind. With his lover shirtless and asleep, he took the moment to do some snooping. He looked at Jackson's arm, and stopped at the inside of his elbow.

There were scars there. Small scars, from a needle, and Sherlock wasn't naïve enough to believe Jackson gave blood. His veins were too damaged for that. Holding his breath, Sherlock reached out to feel them.

Jackson watched him, awake again. "Sherlock," he said quietly.

"What are these?" Sherlock asked.

Jackson covered Sherlock's hand with his own and sat up to kiss him. "Exactly what you think they are." He reached down and began rifling around his backup. "Here." Sherlock looked away and Jackson filled the syringe with the drug. Jackson gripped Sherlock's wrist gently. "Try it."

Sherlock looked at the needle, then up to Jackson.

"Do you trust me?" Jackson asked.

He thought about what they had just done, the months they'd spent together, and the months Sherlock hoped he would be spending with Jackson.

"Yes," replied Sherlock. "I trust you." He stretched his elbow out.

With a smile, Jackson slid the needle in.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N **Hi, guys! Sorry for the long delay in update; I had some stuff going on that kept me from having time to write. I'm going to try to get more consistent with my updates, so I will be updating for sure every Monday, and possibly other times during the week, too. But definitely every Monday!

So again, reviews are welcome and thanks for the support :)

**Chapter 4**

By the time the year ended, Jackson had declared his decision to drop out of uni. Sherlock had been heartbroken, but Jackson promised nothing between them would change. He would still visit and be with Sherlock, and supply him with the drugs he was now so addicted to.

Mycroft didn't know yet, which surprised the younger brother, but he wouldn't question it. Some things Mycroft just did not need to know.

Summer came and Jackson made arrangements for Sherlock to stay with him rather than going home. Sherlock was grateful, though Mummy and Mycroft both objected to any arrangement that did not have the youngest Holmes staying in their house.

So regretfully, Sherlock moved back in with his family when school got out.

* * *

"Sherlock."

Sherlock ignored his brother.

"Sherlock."

A scowl painted his young face.

"Sherlock!"

"What could possibly be so important that you feel the need to interrupt my research?" Sherlock looked up from the microscope and glared at Mycroft.

Mycroft frowned. "You've begun wearing an inordinate number of long sleeves and three quarter length sleeves."

Sherlock let his face melt into an arrogant eye roll, but inside, his heart was pounding. "You interrupted my experiment for _that?" _Sherlock slid back against the table, making a loud screeching noise with his chair.

Mycroft stalked around him, like a predator waiting for the right moment to pounce. "I suppose Jackson has convinced you of their comfort?"

"Yes, he has," Sherlock growled.

"Then you wouldn't mind taking it off for me, would you?" Mycroft attempted a smirk, but Sherlock could feel the nerves rolling off of him in waves. Or maybe those were his own fears. Sherlock chose to ignore him.

Mycroft sighed. "Sherlock, please."

"Is the Great Mycroft begging?" taunted Sherlock.

He heard Mycroft give an audible sigh. "I will leave this alone for now, but I urge you, little brother, to think closely on your decision to be with this Jackson."

Sherlock jerked up and turned to glare at his brother. "Don't be jealous, _brother._ Green doesn't suit you." And he grabbed his notebook and stormed to his room.

He flopped on the bed, the scars on his elbow pricking as he thought about them. The urge flooded him. He picked up the phone and his heart stopped a bit when he heard Jackson's sleepy voice.

"Ello?"

"Jackson?"

He heard a groan and a squeak and he assumed Jackson was sitting up in his bed. "Yeah?"

"It's Sherlock." The boy hoped Jackson was smiling, and when Jackson spoke again, he knew he was.

"Well hey there, handsome. What have I done so good that the gods would grace me with your voice?"

Sherlock grinned widely. God, he wished he could be there instead of here, listening to Mycroft insult him and make (true) accusations. "Jackson." The word was more of an affirmation than anything else, and Jackson chuckled.

"Yes, Sherlock, it's me. What can I do for you?"

Sherlock buried his face in his pillow. He listened to the silence on the phone.

"Sherlock?" Worry tinted Jackson's voice now.

Sherlock rolled his head so he could talk. "I just… miss you, that's all. Your voice. I miss your voice."

Jackson gave a low chuckle. Instead of talking, he started humming, a low, long hum. Sherlock just listened, feeling his body relax into the bed. Before long, he was asleep.

* * *

When Sherlock awoke the next morning, still feeling the tug of desire, but the desire for Jackson was somewhat abated.

Somewhat.

He gave another call and the boys agreed to go out today, and Jackson would restock him. Sherlock felt a tremor run through his spine as he thought about having access to two extremely important things.

Feeling much lighter than he had yesterday, Sherlock got dressed and went downstairs to eat.

He should have known it couldn't last.

"Sherlock." Mycroft and Mummy sat at the kitchen table. Mycroft had on his poker face, and Mummy looked to be on the verge of tears.

Sherlock circled the table a bit, holding Mycroft's gaze. As he passed his older brother, Mycroft shot out and grabbed Sherlock's wrist. The younger brother gave a yell and jerked, but Mycroft held tightly. In one swift motion, he pushed Sherlock's sleeve up to reveal his scarred elbow.

Everyone froze. Sherlock felt bile rising in the back of his throat. He pushed it back down.

"Get out," Mycroft finally wheezed. "Get out and do not come back."

Sherlock stared. His whole body lurched painfully inside him, and he tried to remember how to breathe. He may not have wanted to stay here over the summer, but he'd never wanted to be disowned.

"I will give you ten minutes to gather your things and leave." Mummy sniffled at the table. "You are at school on a scholarship so I cannot make you drop out, but you will have no support from us until you can prove you are clean."

"Clean," Sherlock croaked, not quite possessing anything that was happening.

"Clean!" barked Mycroft. "As in rehabilitation."

Sherlock stared.

"Ten minutes."

Mummy gave a low wail as Sherlock pounded up the stairs. His few things were packed within five minutes, and he took his remaining time to call Jackson.

"Two calls in one day?" Jackson joked. "I'm living the high life today!"

"Jackson." Sherlock's voice cracked. He coughed and regained his composure.

Jackson was quiet for a moment. "What's wrong?"

"Mycroft found out. He's kicking me out." Sherlock swallowed and closed his eyes, trying not to relive what happened. "He doesn't want to see him until I get clean."

Jackson didn't speak, and Sherlock knew he was choosing his words carefully. "You're… getting clean?"

"No," Sherlock snorted. "I just don't have a family anymore."

"Yes you do." Jackson's response was quick and firm, surprising Sherlock. "You're staying with me, like we planned. I'll meet you at the park in fifteen minutes." The line clicked dead.

Sherlock put down the phone and swung his backpack over his shoulder. With one last glance around the room, he left. Mycroft and Mummy didn't look at him as he sauntered through the house, though Mummy was still crying. Mycroft kept his gaze focused on his tea. Sherlock slammed the door behind him.

Well, he got his wish, he mused. He was staying with Jackson for the summer.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N **Sorry for the late addition, guys. Been a busy few weeks, as usual. I need to get better at planning! Anyway, I'm hoping the schedule will even out so I can get on a Monday update schedule. Regardless, here's the next chapter :) As always, reviews are appreciated! Thank you for your kind words and support!

**Edit:** I noticed when doing some revising that in the last chapter, it said Jackson was dropping out, and in this, he's still in Uni, so I made the needed edits. Sorry about that!

**Chapter 5**

It was a month or two into the new school year, and Sherlock was actually enjoying himself. His studies were, for once, not horribly boring. Jackson had changed his mind about dropping out, though Sherlock silently knew he would eventually. Instead, Sherlock decided to enjoy the time he got to spend with the boy that was now both lover _and _official roommate. Without his family, he had no obligations to do anything but his school work, his boyfriend, and his drugs.

As far as he was concerned, it really couldn't get better.

* * *

"Sherlock," Jackson groaned as he pulled out. He rolled onto his back. Sherlock, feeling exhausted but content, snuggled up against him. Jackson pressed a chaste kiss to his head. "You are absolutely fantastic," Jackson told him.

Sherlock tucked his head p under his chin. He honestly surprised himself; he had never expected he would be so cuddly after sex. However, Sherlock had very quickly discovered that having Jackson around him after it was all done was one of his favorite things. Luckily for him, Jackson was as fond of this as he was.

Sherlock could feel Jackson's breath evening out underneath him. His lover had fallen asleep. Sherlock smiled. He enjoyed being awake while Jackson slept. It gave him a sense f need; Jackson spent so much time protecting him from the outside world. Sherlock almost felt like he was returning the favor.

Jackson rolled over in his sleep to face Sherlock, inching forward to bury his face in Sherlock's neck.

"You are so beautiful," Sherlock breathed, knowing his lover couldn't hear him. "I'm so proud you chose me." His eyes closed, but he didn't sleep. Instead, he finally allowed himself to process what Sebastian had done that day. Now, when he was wrapped up in the arms of someone who cared about him, he could think about it. He was safe here.

Most people ignored Jackson and Sherlock' unofficial official relationship. It was far from a secret, but it was something most people chose to pretend wasn't happening. Sebastian, naturally, did not. No, Seb took every opportunity to remind Sherlock that he was a freak in every sense of the word. Usually, Sherlock could handle it, the name-calling and the occasional group ribbing. Today had been a little different, a little rougher.

"When's he going to get tired of you, freak?" Seb had taunted. "When will he become as disgusted with you as the rest of us? Jackson may be weird, but even he can't handle you for long."

Sherlock frowned at the memory, and squeezed Jackson a little tighter. He didn't want to tell the other boy; Jackson would get so mad, and to be honest, he was under a lot of stress from home about school all ready. He didn't need to worry about Sherlock's tormenters, too.

So instead, Sherlock rolled out of bed and inserted another needle in his arm.

* * *

Numb. That was the word. Sherlock felt completely and utterly numb. The video played in front of him, but he barely heard it. He knew it already; he knew Jackson's groans and the name crying out from Sherlock's mouth. He knew the sound of the sheets against skin, and skin against skin. He knew the whimpers erupting from his mouth, the begs spilling forth.

Oh, wait, maybe he wasn't numb. Maybe he was sick. Yeah, sick sounded about right. Sherlock leaned over and retched into the garbage can. At that moment, Jackson burst into the room, singing loudly. He froze.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock leaned against the side of the bin, panting.

"Sherlock, what's wrong?"

Jackson's hands were on his back now, rubbing gently into his tense shoulders.

"Come on, sit up, what's wrong?" Jackson pulled him up a bit and wrapped his arms around him protectively. "Are you sick or did something happen?"

Sherlock turned and buried his face helplessly into Jackson's chest, willing the other boy not to notice the computer screen.

Of course he did.

"What's this?" Sherlock cringed as he heard the video begin to play again. Jackson held him tightly and was silent. Finally, Sherlock felt Jackson's lips against his head. "Wow. I know how you look when I'm lost in a haze of lust and adoration, but bloody hell; you're gorgeous even when I'm not. That's brilliant."

Sherlock jerked away, eyes wide. He waited for Jackson to add something.

"What?" Jackson asked with a quizzical look. "You're sexy as hell. What am I missing?"

"Is that all?" Sherlock snarled icily.

Jackson reached out to cup his cheek, but Sherlock pulled away. Jackson frowned. "Sherlock, there are a thousand and one things wrong with this being on the internet for everyone to see, all right? But what's done is done. I see no reason to give it a lot of thought."

"Of course you don't." Sherlock stood, half stumbling and half stomping away from his lover. He fell onto the bed and rolled to face the wall.

"Sherlock."

"Don't." Sherlock closed his eyes and attempted to retreat into his mind palace.

Jackson watched him through pained eyes. Seb's doings might not bother him, but clearly he had crossed a line for Sherlock, and Jackson could see the boy closing himself off again. Jackson sat on the side of his bed and leaned down to nuzzle his neck. Sherlock stiffened.

"This may not mean much to me, but if it means so much to you, I'll take care of it." He felt Sherlock relax a bit. But just a bit. Jackson squeezed his shoulder. "I won't let him get away with doing this to you, okay?" He paused. Sherlock didn't move. "You seem tired. Want to take a nap?"

In reality, the unusual stress had made Sherlock somewhat tired. He hesitated before giving a slight nod. He could almost feel Jackson's smile.

"Mind if I join you?"

Sherlock sighed inwardly and moved over so there was more room for his lover. Jackson grabbed a blanket off of his own bed and threw it over the both of them, curling around Sherlock protectively.

"This is not the end for Sebastian Wilkes, Sherlock. I promise." Jackson kissed his neck.

* * *

Sherlock's revenge came the following Monday morning. He could not for the life of him figure out where his lover had gone over the whole of Saturday night, but once the video appeared right above the one of Sherlock and Jackson, he understood.

Seb appeared to be drunk, dancing around, spilling beer all over the place. He tried to hit on a girl, but everything was slurred and he stumbled so much, he tossed his drink all over her. She gasped and slapped him before stalking off. The video continued on, with more of Sebastian's drunken antics on screen for everyone to see. The video faded to black and Sherlock thought it was over.

Then Jackson's handsome face appeared on the screen. He looked uncharacteristically serious. He cleared his throat. "Hello, all," he started. "I know a majority of you have seen the recent video of Sherlock and I that Sebastian Wilkes so kindly decided to post online for us. Thanks, Seb." The last sentence was dripping with sarcasm, and Jackson's eyes had taken on a dangerous look.

"I would like to chat about that. First off, regardless of what any of you think, Sherlock Holmes is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me," he half snarled, "and I am _proud_ to say I spend a majority of my time with him, doing a variety of things, all of which are our business and our business alone. I will walk with him and hold hands with him, and hug him and kiss him as much as I please, and as much as he pleases. Just so everyone is aware, you think and do as you please to me, but if any of you, _any of you,_Sebastian Wilkes included, attempt to mess with My Sherlock again, I will show you what real terror is." The look in his eyes and the sound of his voice made Sherlock believe him, and for the first time in his life, he was afraid of the boy he shared his life with.

Jackson's face softened. "And to Sherlock, because I know you're watching this, you are the most important person in my life. You are everything to me. I'll see you soon, okay? We'll have a date night." And with that, the video ended.

Sherlock sat back, a warm glow in his chest. He tried to frown, fighting against the feelings rushing through him, but the smile was persistent. He glanced at the clock; when would Jackson be back? He owed that boy a proper thank you.

As if on cue, the door opened, and Jackson walked in. He shut the door and Sherlock turned to greet him. Jackson sported a somewhat nervous look that dissolved when he saw Sherlock smiling.

"You saw it?" Jackson asked.

Sherlock gave him a small nod.

"You're okay with it?"

Sherlock crossed the room in two steps and took Jackson's lips with his. "You're an idiot," he murmured between kisses.

Jackson wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist. "So about the date night—"

"Not now." Sherlock ran his hands up under Jackson's shirt and tugged it off. "I have better plans for us right now." He ground against Jackson, making the other boy gasp.

"I like this side of you," Jackson purred.

Sherlock twisted him around and shoved him onto the bed. He straddled Jackson's waist. "Good," he smirked, "because you're about to see a whole lot more of it."

* * *

When Sherlock checked his mailbox the next morning, he found a letter from Mycroft. Jackson hovered behind him as he opened it, a hand on Sherlock's back in case Sherlock needed some support.

_As you have likely deduced, I heard about the Sebastian Wilkes episode. While I appreciate Jackson's protectiveness, I have something else to say._

_ I know I said no contact unless you got clean. But you are still my brother, and like it or not, I do care about you. If you, for whatever reason, find Jackson's words have not quite dealt with the situation, you know where to find me._

_ -Mycroft_

Sherlock ripped up the piece of paper and threw it in the garbage. Jackson followed closely, but did not comment. Sherlock felt anger rising in his throat at the thought of the damn letter. Mycroft had no right to pretend he was still Sherlock's brother. Not after what had happened over the summer. Instead, Sherlock and Jackson returned to the room, and Jackson watched over him as he took another dose.

It calmed his mind in a way nothing else could. But as he let the drugs overtake his head again, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was a very bad idea.


End file.
